Wayward Hawk
by Skipper96
Summary: Clint returns from a mission and disappears, it's up to Natasha to find her partner and figure out what's bothering him


**A/N: First off, I don't own this. I know this may come as a shock, but really I don't own this, Marvel does. Now that this is all cleared up, for those of you reading Falling Forward I will finish that, the idea for this story just popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. I'd also like to thank my editor MichaelaTheUchiha for both fixing my mistakes and for the title. Enough with my blabbering and on with the story!**

**Wayward Hawk **

Clint had yet to return from his mission and I was unsure of the details of said mission as it was classified. The details that Coulson divulged to me were so vague, Clint could be doing anything. I only got two words from him: desert and assassination. I sighed as I shoved the clip into my gun a little rougher than usual. Clint had been gone for six days. Even though I knew that his mission could be right on schedule, I was still antsy.

A six day mission involving assassination was troublesome. Normally those kinds of mission took two days, three days tops, especially when it was the famous Hawkeye taking the shot as Clint tended to be quick with getting the job done. When he had a shot, he took it. When he's gone for six days on, literally, an aim and fire mission, I knew that was a cause for concern.

I walked along the line of the eight dummy targets, emptying my bullets in the center of each ones' forehead. I shot a few more rounds before I decided to call it quits. It was almost One AM by the time I crawled into bed. I fell asleep hoping that Clint would return tomorrow.

As always I rose with the sun, even though I didn't have to. I lived on the SHIELD base full time, and since Clint was out on a mission, Coulson had decided to give me time off…some well deserved time off. Clint and I had done back to back missions, each one within two weeks of each other. Once Clint returned, Coulson would probably give him some time off before we are both put back on active duty.

I went on my customary morning jog around the perimeter of the base. The leaves on the few trees that were scattered around the base were turning vibrant shades of red, orange, and yellow. A soft fall breeze whipped around me as I ran. When I began to cross paths with other agents, I called it quits as I wasn't in the mood to converse with any of them. I headed back to the main base and took a quick shower before going to the cafeteria.

My day followed the routine I set up for myself when Coulson told me I was off the active roster. I was able to figure out the new recruits' daily schedule pretty fast. Once I learned that, I was able to set up mine so that I was never in the vicinity of them. It's not that I don't like rookie agents, they just always seem to think that they're the best at everything and there is no room for me, them, and their egos in the same hallway. So, I set up my schedule so that it was opposite to theirs. When they were eating I was shooting, when I was eating they were running, and so on.

I followed my normal routine up until mid afternoon. I was making my way to one of SHIELD's many sparring rooms, which was equipped with punching bags and dummies that I could practice on since my sparring partner was in the desert somewhere, when I saw Coulson coming my way. I hadn't seen Coulson since Clint had left; he had been stuck in Mission Control for days overseeing Clint's operation. To see him coming my way now either meant something really good happened or something really bad. With dread lacing my steps, I met him half way.

"Have you seen Barton?" he asked me, slightly out of breath.

I shot him a look. I wanted to tell him, 'no of course I haven't seen Clint; he's off in some desert building sand castles.' But I settled for just telling him no.

He let out a frustrated sigh and paced around the hallway. My puzzled look clued him in that I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Clint landed about two hours ago," he stated. "I didn't see him get off the Quinjet, but the flight crew said he was irritable and every time someone even walked by him, he gave them the death glare."

After a six day mission, I can see why Clint would be irritable, but death glares were only given after a mission went wrong or were overly stressful. Now, missions that go wrong meant that Clint would be even more distant than he normally was.

"What exactly did this mission involve?" I asked Coulson. "Assassinations don't normally take six days and they especially never take that long with Clint making the shot."

He sighed again before responding, "I wish I knew. Fury had me running in and out of Mission Control during the whole operation, attending meetings and giving briefings. When I was in there, I wasn't there for long. The agents that were in there reported to me each night and, from what they told me, Barton spent the majority of his time in his nest and none of it in the safe house. They also told me that Barton lined himself up to take the shot at least three times before he called it off for unknown reasons. The kill was confirmed last night by local police and he boarded the jet early this morning. Crew members told me that once he was seated on the jet, he didn't move a muscle for the entire flight and had his bow draped across his legs."

"He's probably running off of caffeine and adrenaline," I stated.

"That's most likely the case," Coulson said. "So, the Quinjet landed and as soon as the hatch dropped, Barton bolted. He didn't go to medical or to get debriefed, just disappeared. I've checked all the training rooms, the trees, his room, your room, the air duct, and every other small space I could think of and he's nowhere to be found."

Those were all the places I would have checked for him but I knew the places that Coulson listed were only a select few of Clint's hiding spots that he had disclosed to us, and he only disclosed them after weeks of Coulson and I pestering him. We finally cornered him and forced him into telling us his spots with the promise that we would only go looking for him if it was an emergency or we thought he was in danger. For Clint to be taking refuge in a place that was unknown to us meant he was mentally in a bad place.

Coulson had started his pacing again. He tended to do that when he was anxious, and right now was definitely a good time to be anxious. It had been a while since Clint had done his disappearing act. The last time he did this, he vanished for five days before he resurfaced. The worst thing was, he came back, acting like nothing even happened. I wasn't going to let that happen this time. Clint was always there for me when I returned from a tough mission, and this time I am going to be there for him. Now, I just have to find him.

Coulson and I both agreed that the best way to locate him was to divide and conquer. Whoever found him first would radio it in to the other. Coulson continued to look inside while I took to the outdoors since I was able to climb trees better then he was.

I spent an hour and a half walking around outdoor facilities of the base. I even climbed up a few trees and still couldn't find him. I did another lap around the base before I let out a frustrated huff and started back into the building. Phil had radioed in a few minutes saying that he had nothing on his end, and we both decided to meet up and look over maps to see if there were any Clint-like hiding places within walking distance.

As I was heading back to towards the building, I got an idea. There was a SHIELD training town located about a mile from the base. It is primarily used for new recruits who have recently finished basic training. The recruits go there and perform pseudo missions in order to get adequate field training. I knew for a fact that SHIELD had just received a new batch of recruits who just started basic training, so there was a slim chance that Clint would go there. I walked off the base while telling Coulson my idea. He told me to keep him posted as I wandered into the abandoned town.

The front half of the town consisted of newer buildings that SHIELD constructed after the original buildings began to crumble. There were fake houses and apartment complexes, stores, and office buildings. Once I arrived in the small town, I did a quick sweep of the section. I knew that Clint would be less likely to hide in this section since it was newer and agents could appear at any given moment to set up for a training session.

After confirming my hunch, I wandered towards the back of the town, which was where the older building were located. These buildings gave the area a ghost town feeling: the buildings were old, most of them made of brick with plaster slapped haphazardly on the outside of them. It was also the perfect place for someone to hide who didn't want to be found.

I kept my guard up as I walked through this part of the town. Clint could be anywhere and, depending on how strung out he is, I could be perceived as a threat and end up with an arrow to the back. I gazed around the desolate area. There were so many nooks and crannies that Clint could cram himself into, and I didn't even want to think about how many rooftops there were. I sighed; this was going to be a long process.

I reached what appeared to be the town center. From there, I decided the best way to search for him was to go row by row and scour the allies, then head up to the rooftops and search there. That way, I wasn't doing a lot of backtracking. As I was headed down the first ally, something shiny glinted in the setting sun and caught my eye. I turned my head to the right and, just a little ways down the street, I saw one of Clint's arrows protruding from a wooden sign.

I smiled slightly as I pressed a finger to the radio com in my ear. "Coulson," I said into the device.

"Did you find him?" Coulson's hopeful voice said.

"No, but I found proof of life," I said as I pulled the arrow out of the sign.

"That's good enough for me," Coulson replied. "When you do find him, tell him that the next time I see him, I will personally kick his ass."

I smirked at the statement and said, "Will do," before I removed the com from my ear and pocketed it. I didn't want any interruptions when I found him.

While I was talking with Coulson, I had followed the trajectory of the arrow before pulling it out. It could have been shot from any of the top two floors of the three apartment buildings that were across the street. I abandoned searching alleyways and went straight for the buildings. I cleared the first two buildings fairly quickly, but I didn't go so fast that I would have missed any sort of shadowy figure lurking in the corner. It wasn't until the third building that I found my shadow.

Clint was crouched against the back wall of a dark, dingy room on the top floor of the building. He blended in perfectly with his surroundings, and I wouldn't have seen him if I hadn't been looking for him. He had his bow with an arrow nocked lying across his lap and his gaze was locked on the world outside the window. From the way his position shifted ever so slightly when I appeared at the door, it alerted me to Clint's knowledge of my presence.

"You dropped something," I said as I tossed the arrow I found to him.

He cast me a sideways glance before returning his stormy gaze back to the outside world. He was in worse shape than I thought. I had learned early on in our partnership that the best thing to do in these situations was to wait Clint out. Eventually, he'd come down from where ever he was perched. I could tell from his rigid posture that this was going to take a while, so I settled myself down against the wall opposite to him and waited for my Hawk to come down.

The sun had set and Clint had yet to move a muscle; he barely even blinked. It was becoming worrisome. It had been two and a half hours since I found him, and he hadn't removed his head from the clouds yet. This may turn into one of the few times that the direct approach would work best.

After strenuous missions, Clint would go off and spend some time with his personal demons and then come back a few hours later acting as if nothing happened. There were a handful of times where either Coulson or I had to intervene out of fear for his well being. Coulson once told me that after one of Clint's missions, he disappeared for six hours. Coulson eventually found him at the shooting range, his fingers a bloody mess from the amount of arrows he fired in those hours. Since then, Coulson and I have learned to judge when Clint's mission coping method wasn't working and were able to stop the destructive behavior before it happened. From the way he was acting, now might be one of those times…

"He had a family," Clint said softly.

I waited to see if he was going to elaborate, just as I opened my mouth to say something.

"My target," he said in the same low, sad tone. "He had a family, a wife and two little girls. I watched them for days…his family was always around when I was going to take the shot. Hard to imagine that a guy like that could have a double life as a thief…"

I pushed myself off the ground, my muscles protesting from being held in the same position for so long, and slowly walked over to where he was crouched against the wall. I slid down next to him and waited for him to continue.

"Couldn't put an arrow through him with his kids watching, couldn't let him live either, he was stilling bio weapons of some sort and selling them to interested parties…so I waited. Finally, his wife took the kids out, he stayed in. I don't know who found him, but I know that when they did, he had an arrow through the eye."

I sat there in silence, unsure of what to say. There were people out there who thought the life of an assassin was an easy one, that there were only three easy steps: target, aim, and fire, but it was much more than that. Sometimes the line was blurred where even though the target was involved with some pretty bad stuff; they had another side, a softer side.

That was what Clint had dealt with, he knew what the man was, yet when he took the shot, he took away the life of two little girls' father and left a woman widowed. He was battling with the two halves of himself: the assassin side and the human side. The assassin side knew it was for the best and the human side screamed at him that it was wrong. I looked at Clint and knew exactly what I needed to say.

"You did the right thing."

He glanced over at me and I could see the swirling tyrant of emotions come to a halt as relief filled his storm grey pools. He stretched his legs out and laid his head on my shoulder and was asleep within seconds.

A tiny smile leapt across my face as I put my arm around his shoulders. I knew when he woke up he would be the Clint I knew and loved.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading. And whether you enjoy it or not or maybe you just have something to say, leave a review, they make my day. **


End file.
